


Said the Spider to the Fly

by dngrs_untld_hrdshps_unnmbrd



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Smut, Spider smut and snuggles because what could be better in these trying times, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 11:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15970970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dngrs_untld_hrdshps_unnmbrd/pseuds/dngrs_untld_hrdshps_unnmbrd
Summary: A Guardian strays too close to the Spider’s sticky web. Oops-a-daisy. CH1 for Female Reader version, CH2 for Male Reader version.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Female Reader x Spider version of the story. Go to chapter two for the Male Reader x Spider version.
> 
> “I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;  
> Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the spider to the fly.  
> “There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin,  
> And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in.”  
> “O no, no,” said the little fly, “for I’ve often heard it said,  
> They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed.”
> 
> —The Spider and the Fly, Mary Howitt

You’ve been coming to the Tangled Shore for weeks, and every time you visit you drop in on the Spider at least once.

“How’s my Guardian?” he greets you, relaxed but watchful atop his metal throne.

 _His_ Guardian. You presume he says that to every Guardian because he can’t remember their names. He receives hundreds of visitors a week, Guardian, Awoken and Eliksni alike. He enjoys stories and gossip and you usually find you can get a good price on his stocks if you tell him something amusing first.

One day he shows you one of his treasures, a large, faceted stone that sparkles in the dim light. "Pretty, isn't it." But he seemed indifferent as he places it back in its box. When he looks up at you his eyes gleam brighter than the stone. “I collect all manner of treasures. One day I’ll even collect you.”

He looks more like a spider than ever in that moment, intent and watchful, able to wait for hours until the right prey approaches his web.

“I’m not being kept in some box,” you tell him.

He chuckles. “That’s not what I meant.”

Not sure what he _does_ mean, you turn to go, but the memory of his dark chuckle follows you all the way to the Tower.

A few days later, you’re back.

“What can I do for my Guardian?” he asks, a purr in his voice.

You try not to feel a flash of pleasure at his words. Flattery is just part of getting what he wants out of people, after all.  

Once you’ve exchanged what you need for glimmer he idly says, “I keep letting you leave. I must stop doing that one of these days.”

You look at him atop his strange throne, smug and fat and ordering others to do his bidding. He's clever, but he's no match for you. “Like you could even catch me.”

Faster than you thought he could move he reaches out, catches you by the wrist and hauls you up to him. “Oh?” he asks, eyes gleaming, two hands tight around your waist as you're pressed against him. “Not underestimating me, are we, my Guardian?”

You worm around in his grasp only to be captured by another of his hands. You knees dig into his belly and he's solid bulk, and much stronger and heavier than you are. All the while you’re laughing; nervous, flustered laughter. He’s laughing too, but softly, perfectly in control. “Aren’t you a juicy little fly?”

“Put me down. You’ve made your point.” You hair falls across your face. The Spider catches the silken strands and grips them hard for a moment, making you go still in his arms.

“Got you,” he whispers. Something about the way he says it sends sparkles of sensation shooting down through your body and your mouth goes dry.

You lift your chin and gaze up at him, showing him your not afraid of his little game. “Well? Am I a good prize?”

The eyes gleam again and he says in that deep, rasping voice, “Let’s find out, shall we?”

With deft hands he starts to strip you of your gear, one pair of hands working on your chest piece and the other on your greaves. You give a yelp of surprise and start to laugh again, wriggling around in his lap. But his hands are everywhere, as if he has eight, not four, and pieces of your gear drop one by one to the ground in front of the Spider's throne. Then your underwear is gone, too, and you’re naked and pressed against his warm bulk.

His large hands stroke your body, squeezing, appraising. “Oh, yes, a very fine prize,” he murmurs, his gaze running over you.

You look furtively over your shoulder and around the room. The Spider’s soldiers have melted away, leaving you alone.

His hands work lower, squeezing your ass, and his eyes gleam. He’s strange up close, but he smells good, like the forest after rain, and the faintest hint of sweet ether. You should be on your way as there’s lots to do, but his eyes seem to have hypnotised you.

 _Isn’t this what spiders do_ , you think, _lie in wait for something succulent to fall into their lap?_

His fingers stroke along the seam of your sex and you moan softly. Your hands grip fistfuls of his cloak and you bury your face against his chest. He keeps touching you, his hands roving everywhere. You shouldn’t want this. When two of his hands ease your legs open you let him, your face still tucked tightly against him, so hyperaware of everything that’s happening to you that seeing it as well would be too much. You squeeze your eyes shut, and just feel. 

The Spider strokes his hands over your inner thighs as if you are some beautiful treasure he’s exploring. He’s just so comfortable and warm beneath you and your body rises and falls on his chest as he breathes.

His voice is a low rumble through your body and vibrates against your sex. His fingers slide through your folds and then up to your ass, exploring you thoroughly. “The Eliksni of the Reef believe that human females are better off with them if they must have a male, did you know that? How tedious things must be with your own males.”

There’s amusement in his voice and you’re not sure how serious he is. Finally, you raise your head and look at him. You’ve heard about Eliksni males having two members. Traveler, however big must his be, and _two_ of them? You swallow. But he seems more interested in you than himself. With two hands tight around your ankles he strokes deeper with the fingers of another hand and you feel him delve deeper into the wetness of your sex.

“I have heard…” he murmurs, and his fingers seem to be searching for something, and you cry out when he finds your clit. “Ah, there it is,” he says, sleekly satisfied as he rubs the hard little nub. You arch against him, your knees clamped tight to his belly. Your climax rises feverishly up but before you can reach your peak he slides a thick finger deep inside you. You groan hard and loud. It feels even better than the attentions on your clit. His fingers thoroughly wet, he pushes one against the tight pucker of your ass and a wave of surrender floods your body.

Slowly, he eases the thick digit inside of you, and the other into your pussy, shallow thrusts at first and then deeper and deeper. Your face is burrowed against his broad chest as you cry out, high on the sensations he’s making you feel.

“What a tasty little morsel you are.”

You look up at him, lips parted as you breathe hard, and slide your arms around his neck, clinging closer as he increases the pace of the hard thrusts of his fingers.

“Is this is enough for you, my juicy little fly, or do you need more?” One of his hands releases your ankle and worms beneath you to find your clit again. It’s too good, too much, and you come hard, clamping around his fingers, your body flexing in his hard grip.

He looks down at you sprawled in his lap, panting, and slowly withdraws his fingers. You feel heavy and exhausted and close your eyes, loving the sensation of resting against him.

You realise that he doesn’t need to keep you in a box or mounted on a wall. He’s collected you in a very different way. He wraps a blanket around your body and holds you against him, and it’s blissfully warm relaxing on his belly. There’s been so much to do lately that you’ve been under-slept and overstressed for weeks. No one’s touched you and you haven’t had time to think about touching yourself so the sudden release has made your body limp and sleepy.

With your eyes already closed you’re so comfortable and warm…

You wake with a start a short time later, wondering where you are. Naked and curled in the Spider’s lap on the Tangled Shore. _Oh, no._

A large Eliksni, dressed in black with a long, ragged cloak, stands before the Spider’s throne. He’s idly toeing your chest-piece that lies on the floor at his feet. You realize that he and the Spider must have been conversing in whispers.

The Spider’s voice rumbles quietly beneath you. “It will be done, Akigras. But remember your part of the bargain.”

The Eliksni gives a slow nod, and his eyes run curiously over your form before he heads out and up the stairs.

You bury your face against the Spider’s chest and give a low moan. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. Everyone is going to know about—that we—” It isn’t that you’re ashamed of the Spider or what you’ve done but it feels so vulgar to display it in public. How many visitors has the Spider had? How many Guardians? It will be all over the Tower by now, you sleeping naked in his lap, wrapped in a blanket.

As if reading your mind he says, “I’m not at home to Guardians or Awoken today, and the Eliksni know how to hold their tongues. Go back to sleep.”

You cast another despairing look around the room but he captures your chin in a large hand. “Stop fretting. Do you think I don't know how to protect my treasures?”

Feeling very warm and sleepy again, you burrow down against him beneath the blanket. “Well, all right, then. Just five more minutes.”

He purrs softly, stroking your hair, and a few minutes later you’re asleep.

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_

_Akigras is my bounty hunter Eliksni who was Mercy’s lover in her first life in the Reef. They’re about to meet again in the next chapter of Mercy and Mithrax’s story. She doesn’t remember him, but he remembers her, vividly. Oh the drama. Mercy, Mithrax and Akigras' story is called MITHRAX THE FORSAKEN HAS NO HOUSE and you can find it on my Works page._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Male Reader x Spider version of the story.
> 
> “I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;  
> Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the spider to the fly.  
> “There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin,  
> And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in.”  
> “O no, no,” said the little fly, “for I’ve often heard it said,  
> They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed.”  
> —The Spider and the Fly, Mary Howitt

You’ve been coming to the Tangled Shore for weeks, and every time you visit you drop in on the Spider at least once.

“How’s my Guardian?” he greets you, relaxed but watchful atop his metal throne.

 _His_  Guardian. You presume he says that to every Guardian because he can’t remember their names. He receives hundreds of visitors a week, Guardian, Awoken and Eliksni alike. He enjoys stories and gossip and you usually find you can get a good price on his stocks if you tell him something amusing first.

One day he shows you one of his treasures, a large, faceted stone that sparkles in the dim light. "Pretty, isn't it." But he seemed indifferent as he places it back in its box. When he looks up at you his eyes gleam brighter than the stone. “I collect all manner of treasures. One day I’ll even collect you.”

He looks more like a spider than ever in that moment, intent and watchful, able to wait for hours until the right prey approaches his web.

“I’m not being kept in some box,” you tell him.

He chuckles. “That’s not what I meant.”

Not sure what he  _does_  mean, you turn to go, but the memory of his dark chuckle follows you all the way to the Tower.

A few days later, you’re back.

“What can I do for my Guardian?” he asks, a purr in his voice.

You try not to feel a flash of pleasure at his words. Flattery is just part of getting what he wants out of people, after all.  

Once you’ve exchanged what you need for glimmer he idly says, “I keep letting you leave. I must stop doing that one of these days.”

You look at him atop his strange throne, smug and fat and ordering others to do his bidding. He's clever, but he's no match for you. “Like you could even catch me.”

Faster than you thought he could move he reaches out, catches you by the wrist and hauls you up to him. “Oh?” he asks, eyes gleaming, two hands tight around your waist as you're pressed against him. “Not underestimating me, are we, my Guardian?”

You worm around in his grasp only to be captured by another of his hands. You knees dig into his belly and he's solid bulk, and much stronger and heavier than you are. All the while you’re laughing; nervous, flustered laughter. He’s laughing too, but softly, perfectly in control. “Aren’t you a juicy little fly?”

“Put me down. You’ve made your point.” You hair falls across your face. The Spider catches the silken strands and grips them hard for a moment, making you go still in his arms.

“Got you,” he whispers. Something about the way he says it sends sparkles of sensation shooting down through your body and your mouth goes dry.

You lift your chin and gaze up at him, showing him your not afraid of his little game. “Well? Am I a good prize?”

The eyes gleam again and he says in that deep, rasping voice, “Let’s find out, shall we?”

With deft hands he starts to strip you of your gear, one pair of hands working on your chest piece and the other on your greaves. You give a yelp of surprise and start to laugh again, wriggling around in his lap. But his hands are everywhere, as if he has eight, not four, and pieces of your gear drop one by one to the ground in front of the Spider's throne. Then your underwear is gone, too, and you’re naked and pressed against his warm bulk.

His large hands stroke your body, squeezing, appraising. “Oh, yes, a very fine prize,” he murmurs, his gaze running over you.

You look furtively over your shoulder and around the room. The Spider’s soldiers have melted away, leaving you alone.

His hands work lower, squeezing your ass, and his eyes gleam. He’s strange up close, but he smells good, like the forest after rain, and the faintest hint of sweet ether. You should be on your way as there’s lots to do, but his eyes seem to have hypnotised you.

 _Isn’t this what spiders do_ , you think,  _lie in wait for something succulent to fall into their lap?_

His fingers stroke along the seam of your ass and you moan softly. Your hands grip fistfuls of his cloak and you bury your face against his chest. He keeps touching you, his hands roving everywhere. You shouldn’t want this. When two of his hands ease your legs open you let him, your face still tucked tightly against him, so hyperaware of everything that’s happening to you that seeing it as well would be too much. You squeeze your eyes shut, and just feel. 

The Spider strokes his hands over your inner thighs as if you are some beautiful treasure he’s exploring. He’s just so comfortable and warm beneath you and your body rises and falls on his chest as he breathes.

His voice is a low rumble through your body and vibrates against your thickened cock. His fingers slide down over your ass, exploring you thoroughly. “So sweet and smooth.” Then he raises his fingers to his mouth and lifts his breather mask, and licks his fingers thoroughly with a long, grey-blue tongue, wetting them. 

With two hands tight around your ankles he places a wet finger against the tight ring of your ass and presses firmly. A wave of surrender floods your body and you sink against him, groaning, your flesh yielding. 

But he pauses. “I have heard…” he murmurs, and his other free hand seems to be searching for something, and you cry out when his large fist closes around your cock. “Ah, yes,” he says, sleekly satisfied as he pumps your length with slow, languorous strokes. You arch against him, your knees clamped tight to his belly. Your climax rises feverishly up but before you can reach your peak he lets go, but slides his wet finger deeper inside you. You groan hard and loud. It feels even better than the attentions on your cock, feeling him fill you, deeper with each thrust.

Your face is burrowed against his broad chest as you cry out, high on the sensations he’s making you feel.

“What a tasty little morsel you are.”

You look up at him, lips parted as you breathe hard, and slide your arms around his neck, clinging closer as he increases the pace of the hard thrusts of his fingers.

“Is this is enough for you, my juicy little fly, or do you need more?” One of his hands worms beneath you again and strokes your length, faster now, the pace matched by the deep thrusts of his finger into your ass. It’s too good, too much, and you come hard, clamping around his fingers, your body flexing in his hard grip.

He looks down at you sprawled in his lap, panting, and slowly withdraws his fingers. You feel heavy and exhausted and close your eyes, loving the sensation of resting against him.

You realise that he doesn’t need to keep you in a box or mounted on a wall. He’s collected you in a very different way. He wraps a blanket around your body and holds you against him, and it’s blissfully warm relaxing on his belly. There’s been so much to do lately that you’ve been under-slept and overstressed for weeks. No one’s touched you and you haven’t had time to think about touching yourself so the sudden release has made your body limp and sleepy.

With your eyes already closed you’re so comfortable and warm…

You wake with a start a short time later, wondering where you are. Naked and curled in the Spider’s lap on the Tangled Shore. _Oh, no._

A large Eliksni, dressed in black with a long, ragged cloak, stands before the Spider’s throne. He’s idly toeing your chest-piece that lies on the floor at his feet. You realize that he and the Spider must have been conversing in whispers.

The Spider’s voice rumbles quietly beneath you. “It will be done, Akigras. But remember your part of the bargain.”

The Eliksni gives a slow nod, and his eyes run curiously over your form before he heads out and up the stairs.

You bury your face against the Spider’s chest and give a low moan. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. Everyone is going to know about—that we—” It isn’t that you’re ashamed of the Spider or what you’ve done but it feels so vulgar to display it in public. How many visitors has the Spider had? How many Guardians? It will be all over the Tower by now, you sleeping naked in his lap, wrapped in a blanket.

As if reading your mind he says, “I’m not at home to Guardians or Awoken today, and the Eliksni know how to hold their tongues. Go back to sleep.”

You cast another despairing look around the room but he captures your chin in a large hand. “Stop fretting. Do you think I don't know how to protect my treasures?”

Feeling very warm and sleepy again, you burrow down against him beneath the blanket. “Well, all right, then. Just five more minutes.”

He purrs softly, stroking your hair, and a few minutes later you’re asleep.

* * *

_Thank you for reading!_

_Akigras is my bounty hunter Eliksni who was Mercy’s lover in her first life in the Reef. They’re about to meet again in the next chapter of Mercy and Mithrax’s story. She doesn’t remember him, but he remembers her, vividly. Oh the drama. Mercy, Mithrax and Akigras' story is called MITHRAX THE FORSAKEN HAS NO HOUSE and you can find it on my Works page._


End file.
